doing at the moment? Praying to the Overlord for the return of his beloved wife, or thanking him for getting rid of her?”
“You’re a pig, Damin Wolfblade!” She stood up – far too quickly, she discovered with alarm – and gripped the rough stone wall. “I’m not going to sit here and listen to your drunken insults any longer.”
“Giving in so easily, your Highness? You disappoint me. I thought you’d be good for another hour at least.”
“You’re drunk!” she accused, turning to climb the stairs to her room. She misjudged them and stumbled, but Damin caught her before she fell.
“Actually, I’m disappointingly sober,” he corrected. “You, on the other hand, are well and truly under the weather. How much did you have?”
“Let me go!” she demanded, shaking free of him. “I am not drunk. I had two cups, that’s all.”
“They weren’t cups, they were tankards, and the wine you’re used to is like mother’s milk compared to this Medalonian stuff. Come on, let’s get you upstairs before you really do something to embarrass yourself.”
“Take your hands off me!” she hissed. Gripping the wall, Adrina took the steps carefully, grateful, but not willing to admit it, that Damin was behind her. Her head was starting to spin alarmingly.
By the time they reached the door to her room, Adrina felt a little better. She took a deep breath and turned to Damin, feeling almost gracious enough to thank him for his assistance. Until she saw the smirk on his face.
“You’re insufferable! How dare you laugh at me!”
“You really should learn not to take yourself so seriously. You’d be much more bearable, if you did.”
“I’ve no interest in making myself bearable to suit you.”
“I doubt you could even if you tried, Adrina.”
A small part of Adrina – that part that was still reasonably sober – warned her to let the comment go. But for some reason, she felt compelled to rise to the challenge. She was sick to death of this man.
“I’ve told you before. In the unlikely event I ever decide to entertain myself with you, Damin Wolfblade, you won’t know what’s hit you.”
“So you keep telling me. You’re not quite game to put it to the test, though, are you?”
“You think I couldn’t?”
“I think you’re afraid of me.”
“I’m not afraid of anyone, least of all you!”
“Brave words from a cheap drunk. Go to bed, Adrina.”
She laughed softly. “You’re afraid of
“He told you that?”
“Yes.”
“He really does have a bad habit of repeating the most inconvenient things, doesn’t he?” He reached across and opened the door to her chamber. “Goodnight, Adrina.”
“I’m right, aren’t I? You’re afraid of me.” Adrina wasn’t sure why she was being so insistent. It just seemed that the world would be a much better place if Damin Wolfblade admitted that he feared her. Even a little bit.
“Terrified,” he agreed, as if he were speaking to a small child. “Now go to bed.”
“You’re just saying that to get rid of me.”
“You noticed? Maybe you’re not as drunk as I thought.”
“I know why you’re afraid.”
“Why?”
“Because of this,” she said, and then she kissed him.
Adrina had intended to bestow one blazing, breathtaking kiss on him and leave him gasping for more. He would never get any more, of course, but that was the whole point. Let him have a taste of the forbidden fruit and then deny him the sweetness forever more.
But she didn’t count on Damin’s reaction. She didn’t count on him kissing her back. Didn’t count on finding herself pushed against the wall with strong arms holding hers pinned against her body while her pulse pounded in her ears, blocking out all other sensations. Adrina had kissed plenty of men before, but no
“Your
Tamylan’s startled greeting brought her back to her senses and she pushed Damin away with a shove, gasping for air. Her slave stood in the open doorway to her chamber, her expression a mixture of astonishment and horror.
“Are you alright, my Lady?” she asked with concern, glaring at Damin.
“I’m fine Tam. Go back to bed. I’ll be in shortly.”
The slave nodded warily and moved away from the door. Only then did Adrina feel composed enough to meet Damin’s eye.
“I think I’ve proved my point, don’t you?”
Damin’s expression was far too smug. “You think so?”
“I hope you enjoyed it, my Lord. You’ll never receive another. From now on, you’ll just have to dream about what you’re missing.”
Adrina still had enough of her wits about her not to wait for his answer. She turned on her heel and slammed the door behind her with a resounding, and most satisfactory, thump.
“What are you playing at, Adrina?” Tamylan demanded as soon as the door banged shut. “Have you completely lost your mind?”
“You forget your place, Tamylan.”
“So have you, your Highness,” the slave retorted. “Have you forgotten where we are? Who he is?
“Be silent!”
Tamylan shook her head in disgust and left the rest of it unsaid.
Chapter 46
For the second time in her life, R’shiel entered the Great Hall to attend the annual Gathering of the Sisters of the Blade, although on this occasion she did not have to scale the outside of the building in the rain.
This time she walked through the main doors quite brazenly, concealed by a glamour that made her unnoticeable. She broke from the crowd at the entrance and made her way to the narrow stairs leading to the gallery. Once she had climbed the stairs, she walked along the gallery to almost the exact spot from which she had watched the Gathering two years ago with Davydd Tailorson. It was odd, and a little disconcerting that she could barely remember his face. Davydd had died trying to help her and Tarja escape the Citadel. He deserved to be remembered more clearly.
R’shiel watched the Hall filling with blue-robed sisters, fidgeting nervously. She wanted to call Dranymire, to ensure the demon knew what was expected of him and his brethren, but she could not risk them being noticed before she took control of the Gathering. She wanted to know where Mahina was. She wanted to get a message to Affiana, concerned that the woman had not been at the pre-arranged meeting place. It could simply be that she had not waited around. R’shiel and Brak had been late arriving at the tavern. R’shiel was worried. Affiana had not even left a message for them.
She leaned on the balustrade, watching the growing crowd. Garet Warner, the ranking officer in the Citadel, stood off to the left of the dais with two other officers, where Lord Jenga and Tarja had stood the night Joyhinia had been appointed First Sister. She wished she could tell what he was thinking. Wished she knew how far he could be trusted.
R’shiel also wished Brak had come with her, but he had insisted he wait outside with the horses, ready for a
